


Fealty

by ahvahtlom



Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, Digital Art, Fantasy, Magic, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahvahtlom/pseuds/ahvahtlom
Summary: On a tour of his country, a Prince encounters a small enclave of witches -unwelcome pariahs in his lands- but discovers there's more to them than the stories he's been told.Mentions of, and dealing with the results of, a beating, including blood. Un-beta'd*edit: art added*Original short with OC's Onan Salik and Mhain Callaghan. M/NbThere is a potential continuation, but this is currently wrapped up in this one-shot
Kudos: 1





	Fealty

The fire did little to warm Mhain. Bundled before it, eyes unseeing as it flickered, his mind ran itself in circles like a dog after its tail.

It had been a simple tour of the country, a reminder to the people of the farthest reaches of his domain that the power of the King was still strong. But now... Mhain fancied that he could hear the weeping of the condemned, the _children _he would have murdered come morning.__

Witchcraft had been a plague long instilled, both within his country and without, a neverending battle that Mhain had been raised to be prepared for. He had been prepared, though, for adults, for the crafty and sinister evil that comes with age.

He wasn't prepared for the eldest of the fleeing group to be barely his own age.

The eldest had tried to mask their nature, all perfect subservient manners when caught alone during the day. But the scared, restless children had blown their cover, and the sudden flash of red in the eldests fearful eyes had given their curse away. There had been no resistance, no magic, only fleeing feet. The eldest distracted the guards as best they could, taking many of the clubs blows -the royal guards never used blades, for fear of releasing a witch's magic- upon their slight shoulders. Their sacrifice had saved maybe, at most, three children, but five were taken by Mhains guards, the eldest included.

And now... Now all five were bound immobile, mouths gagged to keep them from biting their tongues to unleash their magic, down in the cellar of this very inn. Waiting for a red dawn.

The blanket fluttered to the ground as Mhain jumped up to pace the floor. They were all witches, but they were _children._ How could he let this happen? How could he not? There had never been one mention of pardoning a witch, in all his years. His conscience wouldn't let him go through with this, though.

"Warden!" He snapped in the doors direction, straightening the hair he had just mussed.

"My lord." Came the immediate reply, the door opening halfway as the elder of Mhains personal guard looked in.

Mhain fought with himself for a moment, before his resolve hardened at the memory of the eldest witch's pleas, screamed in the midst of being _beaten by his own men-_

"Bring the eldest witch to Us. We have questions for them."

The guard hesitated, gaze flickering back to his partner. "My lord, we can go acquire any information from the wretch that pleases you. We wouldn't want to expose you again to such a creature..."

"We know what We wish to do. Go get them." Mhain repeated, tone dropping as he levelled the guard with a foreboding look.

"As you wish, my lord." The guard wisely retreated, and it wasn't until the sound of both guards feet disappeared that Mhain plopped back into his seat.

It was not as long a wait as Mhain hoped for, certainly not long enough for him to think of how he wanted to word this conversation. Legs still bound, the guards dragged the youth into the room, dropping them at Mhains feet with a thud that made the prince's feet bounce despite the witch's diminutive size. He couldn't stop the wince of sympathy at the mosaic of red and purple marks littered across their skin.

"Leave Us." Mhain muttered, one hand waving the guards away as the other left an imprint in the chair.

"Your Highness!" One stammered out. "To bring this beast near you was already a risk, we couldn't leave you-"

"Look at them, what will they do?" Mhain snapped back, gesturing to the shaking lump at his feet. "Stay at the door, just leave the room!" The pair looked to each other.

"Your Highness..."

"Alright, fine." Mhain marched over to his bed, pulling the all-too-familiar weight of his warhammer from beside it and brandishing it in the guards direction. The glint of the metal had never felt so ominous before. "Does this comfort you?"

"Yes, Your Highness." The first guard said, nodding respectfully as he took the other by the arm and guided him out. The prince had something planned, he could tell, and so long as the royal took precautions, he wasn’t about to get into it.

It wasn't until the door clicked shut that Mhain put his weapon down, though he did so slowly and deliberately within reach, in view of the prostrate witch, just in case.

"Can you sit up?" He asked quietly after a moment, uncertain of the damage that had been done.

A hesitant nod, a slow roll upwards, and the witch was on their knees, shaking furiously and breathing heavy around their gag. They stayed hunched over, hands fidgeting against the rough rope that Mhain could see digging into their skin.

Mhain stepped around to their front, coming down on one knee. He lifted their face with one hand, expression as neutral as he could make it in the face of... All of this.

The witch couldn't meet his gaze, the eye that wasn't swollen shut looking everywhere but the prince. Even so, it was no challenge to see the fear, the despair, the resignation in that flashing red eye. The limpness in their legs. The slump of their shoulders.

They had been dragged up here with the full expectation to not even see the dawn.

"Look at me, witch." Mhain ordered quietly. There was an instantaneous flicker of surprise in his direction, but the following few seconds consisted of the youth building up the courage to look their death in the eye.

"Witch." Mhain stressed, and where courage failed, fear filled in, and the youth met his gaze with a weak noise of distress.

"Witch... This is no kind business, which we are dealing with here." Mhain said softly, thumb moving over the others jaw as he pieced his words together quickly. "But We have just as little desire to see you hang this dawn as you do. If We remove your gag, do We have your oath to speak to Us plainly, to discuss a possible way to keep you and your wards breathing? No tricks, no magic. Just two adults finding a solution."

The one reddish eye was wide the whole time Mhain spoke, and they gave a single startled nod a few moments after the prince had spoken. Disbelief turned to pain, then relief, as the none-too-clean cloth was removed, a single 'bleghfth' eloquent enough to cover their feelings on the matter.

Mhain waited as they composed themself, then the pair stared at each other in an awkward silence that the prince was only too happy to break.

"Well?" He asked, aggravated. "You've only a few scant hours, do you wish to spend them gawking?"

"No! No, Highness..." The witch finally squawked out, trying to hunch up despite the grip of the ropes. “I'm sorry, I'm… I'm left speechless b-by your kindness already. “

Mhain snorted, then paused. For a witch, he supposed even giving them the chance to speak was a kindness. The thought left a twist in his gut that he was all too happy to leave behind.

“You were fleeing Our country, have you no plan for capture?” He asked, then shook his head. “You cannot be allowed to escape, for it will put Our- and therefore the Kingdoms competence in question. You cannot be pardoned, for your crime is part of your very self. We admit, if there is a path, We are blind to it!”

The witch nodded slightly through Mhains little speech, eye dropping to the floor again as they fidgeted.

“I-” They hesitated, then spoke in a rush when Mhain opened his mouth to chide them. “I did, I do- have a plan. An idea. Consideration. I always h-have, for this situation, I just never-” They stopped and swallowed, realizing they were rambling. “But it's… it's a risk to Your Majesty. At least, in your mind? And everyone else. You wouldn't want to do it…”

“We are to kill you and four children come morning.” Mhain said flatly. “We aren't so cold as to not even listen, when there is a chance. Go on.”

Surprised, the witch cleared their throat, voice going soft.

“T-thank you… Ah, you see, your Majesty, even a witch… is susceptible to a witch's magic.” They stated quietly. “A curse on a witch is just as potent as one on anyone else. To… to ensure fealty, one could… could curse a witch… place a geas on them, to ensure their... loyalty.”

Mhain stared at them for a long moment in silence, long enough to make the witch squirm, before asking quietly, “How much blood would that require? To make a geas of such strength?”

A resigned pause.

“Enough to put Your Majesty -or others- at risk, if it was misused…” They admitted, head drooping.

Another pause as Mhain leaned back, hand to his chin.

“You could not, then, place a geas on yourself and all four of the children at once.”

“No, Your Majesty. I could do myself, and perhaps two others if I exerted myself, but the eldest child could possibly do herself and the youngest.” They offered hopefully. The fact that the prince hadn't turned them down immediately, it was already more than they had hoped for.

Mhain nodded once, brows furrowed, then stood suddenly and walked to face the fire. It likely hadn't been intentional, but it made him an intimidating figure to his company.

“And if you were allowed to lay the geas. What would you say to lay the spell?”

“Whatever you want, Your Majesty.” The witch said immediately, straightening in their earnesty.

“Of course you would.” Mhain sighed and turned to face them again. “But what would _you_ say?”

The witch paused, settling back down onto their feet.

“I… I would… _re_ dedicate my loyalty,” They said slowly. “To… to king and country. Swear to… serve, to the best of my ability, in any way possible. For death to take me in the most unkind way, should I … fail.”

“And this is something you are willing to do to yourself? Your companions? To children?”

“Your Majesty.” They said, a hint of exasperation creeping into their voice. “If it allows us to live, then I would geas myself into any sort of servitude you requested.”

“Only yourself, now?” Mhain countered, taking a step closer.

“I would only cast a geas on others to ensure loyalty, not servitude.” They countered back, affronted. “It's deplorable enough that that is what I must do, just to be allowed to live! But…” They trailed off, their disgust fading back to resignation, good eye falling back to the floor boards as they continued. “But if it helps to convince Your Majesty, then I would… I'd accept a geas of servitude… any kind of servitude... in exchange for the chance to save them.”

The prince looked down on their bowed head, the bruises down their neck and arms, their reddened hands- their feet were almost purple from being sat on. He was supposed to hate this person, to not even see them as such. Here they were, though, starting to shake as they offered themself up to him in the most blatantly exploitable way, to save their wards, giving Mhain the chance to remedy a problem long overdue for solving…

The witch jerked to look up with how suddenly the prince approached, gasping when they were scooped up as if they were light as a kitten. Surprise turned to flustered worry as they were set on the bed, a tiny noise of worried protest escaping them as the prince untied their feet.

And then, back to surprise as the other sat next to them on the mattress.

“You were going to lose them, at that rate.” He explained quietly. “Now… you've told Us _how_ to keep you all alive tomorrow. Convince Us why We _should_.”

The witch gaped for a moment, flustered and confused from having expected something very different happening just now. They took a moment to flex their feet, hissing in pain as the blood returned to each toe.

“U-uh… Y-you… you'd keep from having to… to kill, unnecessarily… The five of us would be beyond grateful, and no matter what the others choose, I'll do everything I can for you, Your Majesty. Whatever you ask.” They leaned closer, forcing themself to look him in the eye, hoping it would convey their honesty. “And you, you'd be infamous! The prince who… Who tamed witches. Im-imagine, what could be done, if you won the loyalty of the witches of your domain? The strength this country would gain, with witches guarding it under your banner?”

“... That is what you see as Our desire? That's what you want Us to do with you? Use you for military power?” Mhain asked after a moment. The witch held their breath, then turned away, shamefaced.

“No, I- I thought it was what you wanted to hear. Forgive me for my presumption.” They whispered, good eye shutting for a second. “If… it makes it any better, that's not what I want, either.”

“What do you want?” The witch startled, not expecting the question. “Beyond living, that is.” The prince clarified, just as the witch opened their mouth to say just that.

“I… haven't really… considered it much, Your Majesty.” They said honestly. “I never thought I'd get the chance… I suppose… if I were allowed, I'd find ways to use magic for good purposes. There has to be a way. And if not, then… I would just go where I could be of use.”

“No returning to your family?”

The youth shook their head slightly. “My mother abandoned me to a band of highwaymen. They were going to ransom me, but she never came back.”

Mhain frowned. “... And your father?”

“Never knew him. I don't think my mother did, either.”

“But then… what happened? The highwaymen didn't _keep_ you, did they?”

“No, once they realized my mother wasn't coming, they were going to kill me, but another group came and fought with them, and ended up setting their hideaway on fire. I was able to escape in the confusion. I begged on the street for a year, before a gang of kids let me join them.”

Something was nagging Mhain about their story. Not that he thought they were lying, but something about it sounded familiar…

“Where were you abandoned?”

The witch paused, taken aback by the question.

“Ah… a swath of forest, near the town of Remin. I don't remember where, exactly, I was very young.”

“How young?”

“... Six summers? I think?” The witch started to lean back from the other, the sudden shift to aggressive questioning worrying them.

“How old are you now?”

“Nineteen summers, if my memory serves…?”

“... Witch. What is your name?”

“It's- it's Onan, Your Majesty. W-why?”

Onan.

“Wait here.”

Mhain stood and made for the door before Onan could protest, closing them inside as he consulted with the guards outside. The witch could hear one give an affirmative and walk away, before the prince re-entered.

“D-did I say something wrong, M-Majesty?” They asked, cowering on the bed. This change in the prince sent prickles of worry down Onans back.

“No, no, Onan.” Mhain assured, stepping over to them and motioning reassuringly. It was painful to see someone shaking so violently, just from his actions, even if he understood why. “I only had to send my guards on an errand.”

Watching them relax infinitesimally, he came and sat next to them again.

“You may stay until your feet are better.” He said quietly. “Tell Us about the children.”

Onan hesitated. The kindnesses the prince had shown them were already immense, considering, but he had yet to stay the order for the noose. They didn't know how telling him about the children would help.

“Elyse is the eldest…” They started. “We think she's sixteen summers. Uh… she's a very quiet person… very good with her hands. She's always weaving something together wherever we go…”

Mhain nodded as Onan went from hesitant to glowing, talking about each of their wards. The witch went on about how each found their way into the group, the trials they'd been through, the paths they took to get where they were. It went on longer than either intended, Onans feet back to normal by the time they listed their fifth of seven wards. Mhain let them go on, intent at first to let them talk themself into a corner, to admit some wrongdoing, but they only went on about the good their wards had done.

When they had finally talked themself out, they sighed, then looked to the prince again.

“They're all good kids, Your Majesty.” They said quietly. “They can prove it to you, if you just give them the chance.”

“I believe you.” Mhain agreed, not looking up from his hands. Onan looked to him, shocked at the change from royal to informal pronoun, but a knock on the door both kept them from commenting, and roused Mhain quickly. Leaving the witch on the bed, he closed the door behind him to speak with his guards. Onan strained to hear, but feared to leave the bed, and could only hear muffled talking. It didn't… _sound_ bad.

Mhain returned a few moments later, giving the other a strange look before coming back over to them.

“Is everything well?” They asked, not sure if this was any better than the last time.

“Yes, it is.” He assured, kneeling down before the other. Onan startled at the gesture, until Mhain picked back up the ropes that had bound their feet. Mhains face fell as soon as he saw Onans expression, dropping his gaze as he carefully retied the bonds.

“We promise nothing, Onan, but… you and your wards will live through tomorrow.” He said finally, as he tightened the knot. “We cannot say, for risk of manipulation, but We have been given reason to stay your execution.”

The witch gaped for a moment, then pulled in a shuddery breath as they bit back on the tears that welled up. “O-of course, Your Majesty. Thank you, f-for letting me know.”

Nodding, Mhain went and fetched the gag, showing it to the other with reluctance. “We wish you could tell your wards, however…”

Some of the relief in Onans face faded, and they nodded once. “I understand, Your Majesty.” They said quietly, opening their mouth obediently.

It was Mhains turn to feel awkward, sliding the cloth back into the witch's waiting mouth and cinching it tight. He went back down on one knee, a hand sliding to Onans cheek. His mouth opened, but he thought better of it, and instead patted the others face and tried to give a reassuring smile. Failing pretty well at that, he stood and set his hands on the others shoulders.

“We have to put you back on the floor. We don't want the guards thinking anything untoward happened. It could compromise Our plan.”

Onan nodded, and as soon as they did, Mhain picked them up and set them back where the guards had left them. That done, Mhain called for the guards. He didn't watch when they picked up the witch, but the elder of the two knew well enough, and carried the youth with more care than before.  
*

There was nothing Onan could do but wait, and try and console their wards through dawn. It only got easier once it was clear their execution date had passed.

Mhain had his own trials, explaining his reasons as best he could without giving away his plan to his entourage and the townsfolk alike. When evening came, he ordered the witches to be fed, adding that they had to be at least once a day until his investigation was finished. Only once was cruel, but he dared not show favor, either.

It wasn't until the night of the fifth day after he spoke to Onan, that the prince's guest finally arrived. He waited in his room, a fine dinner being spread before him in anticipation of his guest.

She swept in past her escort with all the regality of court, not one stitch on her dress out of place. Hesitated, though, when she saw the private setting, but the older servant taking care of them seated her politely.

“A pleasure to see you in such fine health, Selma.” Mhain saluted her cheerily. “Please, you must be famished after your trip, indulge yourself.”

The Lady Selma Salik narrowed her eyes minutely, taking up her utensils daintily.

“Your Majesty is too kind.” She said dryly. “Having such a repast prepared, for calling me away from home so suddenly.”

“It was the least We could do, given the circumstances.” Mhain retorted, just as cheerily.

Selma waited for him to start explaining himself, but nothing was forthcoming, so their dry banter continued through the meal.

Once he had finally finished, Mhain wiped his face to give himself a moment to collect himself. Glancing to the screen on the other side of the room gave him some courage.

“So then, Selma. We have some good news for you.” He said, setting his napkin down on the table.

“Do you now?” She asked politely, crossing her utensils on her plate as she gave him her full attention.

“We believe so.” He said dryly. She was going to be furious, it wasn't going to be pretty. “After many a year, your grieving has been rewarded-” Selma flinched at this, spine straightening. “It would seem, in the chaos in the rescue attempt, your child was lost. Just not in the way we thought. Thankfully, they found the means to survive, and have now found their way back to us.”

“It's impossible.” Selma denied immediately. “They brought the body back to me, there was a funeral, my child is gone.”

“But the child you buried, their poor body was too charred from the fire that also killed their kidnappers to truly be recognized, now wasn't it?” Mhain countered, his smile turning dark as Selma floundered. “Why so negative, Selma? As a mother, shouldn't you be jumping at the chance? Why wouldn't you want your child back?”

He nodded to his guard, who pulled back the screen to reveal Onan, still gagged and bound to the chair. The time spent waiting on Selma had given them some to heal, both eyes reflecting a red that had nothing to do with the fire worriedly back to the rest of the room. Looking between the two, there was no way to deny the relation- Onan was very nearly a complete copy of their mother, her sleepy-looking eyes and sloped nose just the more prominent features Onan gained from her.

“Unless.” Mhain said with a deep breath as his mein dropped. “You had something to hide.”

“Th-this is just- witchcraft!” Selma announced, standing in disgust. “My child is dead! Why did you bring me out here, just to hurt me so?” She didn't give the youth more than a glance, and still they winced under the shrillness of her voice.

“You had enough attention on your head, having a child with an anonymous father.” Mhain said quietly. “Having a witch-child, though…” He paused and steepled his fingers, doing his best to ignore Onan squirming in their chair in distress.

“How, indeed, did you intend to get around the law? No noble may be executed except as a punishment for murder, but no witch may be allowed to live. You had hoped, didn't you…” Mhain stood, coming around the table. “For the kidnappers to kill Onan, when you did not return. Once you found that they were going to contact you directly, you had soldiers sent to dispose of your childs ‘murderers’, to hide the evidence.”

“What _accusations_!” Selma screeched, stepping back and lifting a hand as if she were about to slap Mhain, but thought better of it. “Really, Your Majesty, how could you think up such stories?”

“I didn't have to.” He answered evenly, first moving his eyes, then his chin to point behind her. “It seems your memory for faces is poor. Not only do you reject your heir, but you ignore the leader of the soldiers you paid to kill them.”

The noble froze, then jerked to face the servant, forgotten in the shadows in the heat of the moment. He met her gaze evenly, arms folding as she gaped. Recognition finally crept into her eyes, quickly replaced with fear as she turned slowly back to Mhain.

“You don't honestly believe some vagabond, do you, Your Majesty?” She asked slowly, earning a scoff from the old soldier.

“It's an accusation worth looking into. Especially coming from a soldier of the realm.” He replied cooly.

“Wh-what will you do?” She asked, starting to cower under Mhains stare.

“Our decision was made as soon as you walked through the door, Lady Selma.” Stepping closer, he loomed over her, and not for the first time was glad for his size. “There is no denial that this is your child, and attempted murder is not grounds for removal of the victim's status.”

“You, on the other hand.” He leaned down some, glaring her in the eye. “Will be put under a full investigation. Your diminishing tithes to the Crown have been a cause for concern for years, considering the increased productivity of your lands. We will merely add this to the list for Our investigators to check.”

“Your Majesty!” Selma protested, wringing her hands. “If the Crown were not immune to witchcraft, I'd think you compromised! This is lunacy, hearsay!”

“Then there is no issue in investigating it, now is there?” He sneered, straightening. “You have nothing to hide, after all.”

Selma started to stutter out another protest, but Mhain cut her off.

“You will remain here overnight, and attend my verdict on the witches come morning. After that, you will be accompanied to the Capital by my guard, and will remain in your suite there until I return. Now, _leave Us_.”

The Lady gathered herself and fled the room, immediately followed by one of the guards at the door. Still bristling, Mhain spun on his heel- and stopped dead at the wide-eyed Onan, sunk as low as they could while bound to their chair. The look they were giving him made his stomach drop, all the rich food turning sour in his gut.

“On-” He halted, remembering the others in the room. “Witch, you… you'll return to the others tonight. We-” God, what could he even say. “We will consider the matter thoroughly tonight.” That was lame, so lame, Onan didn't look the least bit relieved.

Taking the cue, one of the remaining guards came over and started to untie Onan, first untying one hand, tying it to the other, then untying the second from the chair. The witch followed meekly, head down and gaze to the floor as they were led out.

Mhains stomach dropped further as he realized what he'd done, from Onans perspective. Bound to a chair, hidden behind a screen as a table full of food was filled only a few feet away, then revealed for shock value- and promptly ignored. Ignored by their own mother. Ignored by himself. And now back to their prison, with no real answers.

Mhain felt at least four kinds of callous.

Morning came slow, every person down to a one too restless for sleep. A fine breakfast was prepared for Mhain, and his guilt compounded as he forced himself to eat more than a few bites. Each mouthful tasted like ash.

Onan and the children had to be awake by now, if they had even gotten sleep. The prince could only pray that they didn't panic, his plan wouldn't work if they or the crowd became too scared.

He prayed _Onan_ wouldn't panic. He couldn't dare plan it with them, though. It had to be natural, or no one would believe it, royal immunity or not.

The execution grounds had been prepared the first night the witches had been captured, five nooses swaying under an ancient maple tree. Mhain ignored them as he approached the makeshift gallows, giving the sleepless-looking Selma a glower before turning and focusing on the growing morning crowd.

He had to stifle his emotions, trying not to bristle at all the chatter, much of which was not very positive. Please, God, let Onan be as eloquent as they were the other night.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Mhain nodded to a guard. He got a swift salute, and the woman turned to go. It was barely a minute later when the crowd started to turn sour, more than just verbal abuse being flung at the short procession.

Onan was in the lead of their sad little group, chin up and eyes shining in the weak morning light. The autumn chill seemed not to affect them at all, with how focused they were. They didn't look at Mhain once during the procession to the tree, causing the prince another twist in his gut. He missed the glance they gave him, though, when they were all turned to face the crowd.

Mhain straightened his shoulders, blinking rapidly as he forced himself to keep staring forward as his guards slipped five rough ropes around five thin necks. Five stools that they were all forced to step up on, the youngest being forcibly picked up to stand on theirs. The gags did almost nothing to quiet the crying.

God, he had to keep _his_ composure, and all he could do was hope it rubbed off. A nod from a guard to signal they were ready, and Mhain finally glanced to Onan.

It was a good decision, he realized. Seeing them be strong for this gave him strength, too.

“Citizens of the town of Elbath.” He proclaimed to the crowd, garnering their attention down to a one. “We are gathered to witness the execution of five witches this morning, as the laws of our great country demand.” He paused and gestured to the short row. “These five individuals have shown undeniable physical evidence of their nature, and as such, each will face the noose this morn.”

There was a loud ripple of noise in the crowd, some positive, some negative. Mhain hoped that was a good sign.

“However.” He continued, and the crowd silenced. “It has come to my attention that one of these poor souls has lost more than the others.”

Confusion, noise, many shifting feet. Onan snapped their head over to look at the Prince in surprise, Selma only a fraction of a second behind. The youths chin lifted as Mhain approached them, and he almost joined them when they finally let tears fall in hope.

“I have been given reason to believe, beyond reasonable doubt, that you are in fact, the lost heir of the noble Salik line.” He announced, pitching his voice as Selma started to protest, and was quickly silenced by her guards. “With respect to your lineage, I grant you the right to give voice to your last words. Choose them well.”

He prayed his wording was hint enough as he raised his hands to remove Onans gag, to the surprise of guard, civilian, and witch alike. He then took a half-step back, allowing the crowd to see Onan.

Onan had a moment of internal panic. They were already bound in the noose, surrounded by guards, and facing at least a hundred people. They had given up on the chance of pardon when they were all brought out, and their mind was a blank for a few terrifying seconds.

“I-” They choked, fear rising to replace surprise. Mhain cleared his throat and gave the smallest nod of encouragement.

Now or never.

“I have done m-my… Best to be a good citizen of this country.” They started low, then cleared their throat and pitched their voice to the crowd. “And I wish for nothing but the best for it. A-as such, I- I offer myself to His Majesty. If I may b-best serve you dead, then by all means, may I serve you well. But if I can- can be of use to you, Highness, then I am as your dog, faithful to every order.”

The crowd was silent, half in surprise, half in fear the witch would snap and bespell them. Only the few in front, the officials and the elders, could fully see the spectacle, the earnest, pleading look the witch gave their Prince.

“Noble blood that you are, but how can I trust one who has known nothing but hardships? How may I be assured of your faithfulness?” Mhain asked. It came out quieter than he wanted, but it would do.

“I… I offer all I can, Your Majesty- my life.” They paused, swallowed. “And to prove it, I offer to curse myself-” The crowd recoiled, guards reaching for their weapons “-to only be able to serve you faithfully, to know nothing of treason, and for death to claim me the moment I fail you in this.”

“You would accept such a servitude? To willingly follow the orders of your King, no matter what they are?”

Onan forced a smile, though it came out lopsided.

“What are any of your people, but your willing servants? I ask for nothing but the chance to be as they are.”

“And what of your companions? Do you abandon them here?”

“I will lay this geas on any of them that consent, Your Majesty.”

“And you swear, these words are true and you will follow through with them and them alone, on the pain of death?”

Onan gave him a disparaging look, looking up to the rope that swung above them.

“Even if I were not already facing death, my intentions have been nothing but pure, Your Majesty. My oath, for what little it means, is true, and my life, yours.”

The prince sighed slightly, allowing some relief to show. It wasn't the most well-worded, but hopefully it would do. He gestured to the guard behind Onan, who came up behind and put one foot on the stool Onan stood on. He didn't enjoy the implicit threat, but it felt necessary to keep the crowd from panic.

“Then, you are granted this chance. Speak truly, and clearly. Let not one person present question your resolve.”

Onan shivered, feeling their weight shift as their stool adjusted to the guards foot. They looked out on the crowd- all too shocked to speak- and groaned lightly. They knew why they had to repeat it, for the sake of the geas, but if this is what they had to do...

“I, Onan, regardless of my name or lineage, do so swear now.” They swallowed and glanced to Mhain. “To serve my king and my country to the extent of my abilities. To be faithful to them, in good times and bad. For all my power to be bent on the betterment of my people. And if I should ever knowingly fail, or reject this path, then I call for death to come for me, and to take me in the most vile of ways, as such I’d deserve for my treason.”

The air had started to thrum by the end of their first breath, filling it with static. People, even a few guards, had started to back away, fearful of the building magic.

Mhain found it hard, himself, with standing right next to the source. The thought of what Onan could do if they changed their mind… He shook it from his head, and carefully drew a small knife from his side, a stocky thing meant as a last defense. Hesitated though, when he realized he didn't know where or how deeply to cut, so the witch could finalize the geas.

Thankfully for him, Onan knew exactly what he was thinking. They raised their face, showing one cheek, and then the other.

“Let my devotion be clear, as clear as my own face.” They said calmly. A thin, barely-contained calm that quailed as Mhain lifted the knife to Onans face. They nodded slightly at the mumbled “Here?” and braced themself. They felt the magic sizzle as their blood was released, and quickly turned their head to show the other cheek. Mhain was quicker this time, but the knife hovered between them instead of returning to its sheath. A last defense against a change in Onans heart.

“As I have said, so it shall be.” They said simply, trying to smile reassuringly before a crack of light and sound hit them like lightning.

The crowd screamed, half in terror, half in worry for their Prince. Guards surged forward, but Mhain had already stepped back from the blinding light.

When his vision cleared, he stared, dumbfounded, at the gasping, shaking Onan. They were as pale as their skintone allowed, sweating heavily and leaning heavily into the noose.

The cuts in their cheeks had turned to a vivid, unnatural purple. Marks for all to see, for the rest of their life.

Mhain stood for a long moment, suddenly lost in what to do, before the quick, shocked silence of the crowd brought him to his senses. He straightened, and felt the eyes of all focus on him, Onans included.

“As Prince, I, Mhain Callaghan, accept your oath of fealty.” He stated, pitching as loud as he could. It sounded anticlimactic, even to him. Nevertheless, he reached for the noose, and with a flick, it swung behind Onan, robbed of its purpose.

Still, the silence hung behind Mhain. Even as he personally helped Onan down from their stool and untied their hands.

“Your loyalty is now unquestioned, Onan Salik. And you, wards of Onan, would you, too, accept this oath?”

The four nodded vehemently, to the surprise of none. With a gentle nudge and a hand of support from Mhain, Onan took the few shaky steps to Elyse.

“Do you, Elyse, regardless of name or lineage, do so swear now, to serve your king and country to the extent of your abilities? To be faithful to them, in good times and bad? For all your power to be bent on the betterment of your people? And if you should ever knowingly fail, or reject this path, then know the call death will come for you, and to take you in the most vile of ways, as such you'd deserve for your treason?”

She nodded. Onan gave their Prince a nudge, and with a heavy heart, Mhain cut both of Elyses cheeks as well. The same swelling crack struck her, and when it cleared, her face was slashed with the same viridian as the leaves above them.

The crowd could see this clearly, as Onan collapsed as soon as Elyse's geas was set. They curled into themself as their face throbbed, gasping as they tried to hold in their cries of pain. The cost of one geas had been more than expected, and the second, far too much, even with Elyse's help.

Mhain kneeled as soon as he realized what had happened, a hand on Onans shoulder.

“I'll be fine,” they insisted, trying to unfurl. “Let her continue, _please_.”

Holding back a wince of sympathy, Mhain nodded and stood. He tried hard not to think about how prone Onan was, just like that first night. Even worse, laid out like this in front of a crowd that had come to see them die.

“The power needed to ensure your fealty is great. Elyse, if you will continue with your brethren? If you cannot, We will have them held until due time.”

Shaking as she was unbound by guards, Elyse nodded, and did her best to repeat what Onan had said, getting a prompt from them when they had the breath. She was only able to do the next child, Tharan, before she, too, collapsed, and then started to cry at her perceived failure.

“You've done enough, it's alright.” Onan rasped out, forcing themself into a sitting position and cradling her. At Mhains change in stance, they looked up to him, still afraid for the last two children.

“Your oaths are accepted.” Mhain announced, and the crowd finally started to stir. “Until such time you can lay this geas upon the last of your wards, you are to watch over them with the aid of Our Guard.”

A pause, and he reached down to Onan, gaze full of pity.

“You are citizens of Desirand, pariahs no longer.”

Onan hiccuped, the weight of the situation settling in. They reached for Mhains hand, and was surprised by his strength as he hauled both themself and Elyse to stand.

“Citizens of Elbath, witness!” Mhain called out. “The first witch-citizens of Desirand!”

Onan and Elyse almost fell over again at the noise. Surprise, joy, anger, the whole gamut was there. The shock was too great for them to do anything but hold each other, watching the crowd. Onan spun to help the little ones, holding the two youngest close to their legs, as Elyse held the other to her hip.

“Such an occasion calls for celebration!” The Prince called out over the crowd. “Let it be known far and wide that Desirand welcomes all of Her children!”

The call surprised Onan, and when they dragged their gaze from the crowd, it was to find the Prince gesturing them to follow.

“So let's celebrate.” He said, far quieter, just for the witches to hear. “You all need a damn good meal after all this.”

Onan could feel a lump in their throat, eyes prickling anew. They had no words to thank the Prince, to express the sheer gratitude they felt. There would never be enough, even if they could.

“Lead me, my Prince,” they choked out around a sob. “And I will follow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do all of these for my own amusement, but this one was the first one I 'completed'. My works always end up going far longer than I anticipate, so despite it being rushed in places, I'm proud of this one for being finished.  
> It is, however, over two years old, and un-beta'd, so please keep that in mind


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